Sunday, August 29, 2010

The University Years

The first year of University was a disaster.  I made the mistake of living in residence and an all-male residence at that.  Not that I was tempted by any of the men in my residence, I was being a good boy, no dressing, no men, just behaving myself and studying.  The problem I had with an all-male residence that there was just way too much testosterone, it was like living in a locker room twenty-four hours a day.  Too much drinking, partying, and rabble rousing for my tastes; the only time I was really there was to sleep.  I spent most of my time in the library or hanging out off campus in coffee shops.  The first year also the point I broke up with my high school girlfriend.  I was the victim of the Turkey dump.  She went away to a different school from me and when we got together at home for Thanksgiving she broke it off with me.  So really nothing to report in year one.

Year two on the other hand was much better.  I got my own small apartment and enjoyed living on my own.  I started dating a few women, nothing serious; I was just hanging out enjoying life and studying.  At this time I also found my “local” as I liked to call it, a small bar near where I lived that I would stop in have something to eat and the occasional drink.  It was a perfect place to hang out in the afternoon when I had no classes.  It was quiet and I could hang out the bar, read text books and nobody would bother me. 

One of the co-owners of the bar was a guy named Steve who worked behind the bar during the day. He was a big bear of a man, early fifties, grey hair, over six feet tall and weighed I well over two hundred pounds.  Really nice guy, friendly, always had a smile for everybody and would give me a free beer or pop, every so often because he knew I was a student.  Anyway, one Friday afternoon he asks me why did I always leave once the after work crowd started to come in, he goes “there are lots of cute women and on Friday’s and it usually turns into a party atmosphere”.  I told him that I usually went home and studied some more, and once I knew it was going to get noisy at the bar, it was time for me to leave.  He goes “well you cannot study all of the time, what are you doing tomorrow.” I tell him study during the day and then probably watch the hockey game on Saturday night.  He goes great “why don’t you come over to my place, we can watch the game together and then I can take you out and show you some places, that you may not have been to before.”  I said sure, he gave me his address and off I went home.

The next day I studied and then got cleaned up and headed over to Steve’s place for the hockey game.  He lived a few miles away from me in an old converted warehouse.  When I got there he opened the door wearing shorts and muscle shirt.  He says “pardon my appearance but this is my hockey watching outfit.  I liked to be relaxed and comfortable when I am watching the game.”  So he invites me and gives me a tour of his place.  He hands me a beer, we head to the couch and starting watching the game.  We make the usual small talk about hockey; then he asks me how school is going, we have another beer and then of course he makes his move.  He was not subtle in any way shape or form, just reaches over grabs the back of my head, pulls it towards him and sticks his tongue down my throat.  I struggled just for a moment but then started getting into it. 

After a few minutes Steve stops and leans back and just starts laughing.  He says “I knew you would kiss me back.  My gaydar went off the first time you walked in the bar.  I have been dropping hints for weeks but you never took your head out of your books.”  Then he just kept laughing and grabbed me by the hand and took me to his bedroom. 

Now with Mr. P it was all nice and slow and tender, Steve on the other hand was lots of things, but slow and tender was definitely not in his top ten traits.  After he got me undressed he turned me around and checked me out and then gave me a couple of slaps on the ass and pulled me into bed.  I was really turned on; he got on top of me and started again with the French kissing.  I weighed only about one hundred and forty pounds at the time and he out-weighed me by over sixty pounds and I loved how his weight felt on me and the fact that I could not move, he was taking the lead and I had nothing to say about it.  Next he moved to my nipples, slowly licking them and then giving them little bites.  I happen to have rather large nipples for a male, and they had never been played with before and it really turned me on.  The harder he bit and sucked the harder I moaned, he took this as a sign of encouragement and kept working them, pulling, biting, twisting for at least thirty minutes and then I came.  No stimulation at all of my penis, just Steve working over my nipples and I was cumming.  He laughed and then after I was finished he licked it all up and then started with the French kissing again.  I could taste me own cum on his tongue and it just made me hard again.

Finally he pulls away and gets up and tells me to roll over on my stomach.  Next thing I know he is pulling on a condom and grabbing some lube.  I ask what he is doing and he says “I am going to fuck you.”  Now I had never been fucked before, I had seen pictures of it but Mr. P was all about the oral sex no anal.  I was scared to death and did not say anything more and he went to work putting lube on his fingers and then working them around in my ass.  I groaned and moaned every time he put his fingers in me; finally he says “raise your ass a little” and the next thing I feel is his cock going up my ass.  My ass felt like it was on fire, I wanted to scream but then he started pumping and I started to moan, really enjoying myself. 

After what seemed to be an eternity he finally came, pulled out, gave me a couple of more slaps on the ass and started taking his condom off.  While he was doing this he says “why is it that the quiet types are always the wildest in bed.  You were wild, if you do not mind me asking, how many times have you done this?”  I explained that he was only my second man I had ever been with and he was the first man who had fucked me.   He says “well I hope I did not scare you, but you seemed to be enjoying yourself; so I just was going with the flow.”  I told him I was fine and that whenever he was ready I wanted to go again. 

He laughed and said “OK, but first I need a beer and a smoke first.”  So off we went back to the living room and I noticed myself in a mirror and just had to stop and look.  My nipples were all red and raw and the skin around them was already starting to bruise from all of the rough play. I just smiled and went and had a beer, as I had never felt so alive in my life.

So Steve became my first male fuck buddy and good friend for my remaining years at University.  Neither of us was looking for a relationship, at the time but we had amazing sex together; so what he had worked for us.  Mr. P may have been my first teacher in all things gay, but Steve was providing me a Master’s class.  He introduced me to his circle of friends; he took me to Toronto; to my first gay bar and in general reminded me that sleeping with men was fine.  Also, Steve tried to drive it into my head that I needed to be myself, not what other people wanted me to be.

He also tried to explain gay culture to me.  I was fascinated by his gaydar (gay radar for those of you not familiar with the term).  He claimed that he could tell if somebody was gay or not in less than five minutes after meeting them.  I asked him how he knew I would sleep with men the first time he saw me.  He goes, “For you, you did not even have to say a word, I just knew from looking at you.”  I claimed he was lying and he just got lucky, but he swore it was true. 

Just a side note on gaydar, I have worked on mine over the years but unless I see somebody in a gay bar, or he is hitting on me, at best I am fifty/fifty in guessing somebody’s sexual orientation.  However, I know some people really have the gift.  I have been hit on by men in some of the strangest locations (and no I was not out dressed as a woman, which can be a dead give-away in my books.  Lol) and either they are a lot more confident than I am in approaching men, or they have exceptional gaydar.

I do not consider myself good looking, just average looking at best but I have been hit on by men while: i) standing in line for a beer at a ball game, ii) buying a sweater at Eddie Bauer while my girlfriend was standing right there oblivious to the whole thing (he wrote his name and number on the bill and a note that said “meet for coffee??”, no I did not take him up on the offer, nor did I tell her), iii) in coffee shops, iv) in a hotel bar in downtown Cincinnati (not known as a hot bed of gay activity as far as I know),v) in straight bars, vi) in restaurants, vii) standing on the subway platform waiting for a train, viii) in book stores (real book stores not porn shops, but I have been hit on there as well Lol) ix) at a wedding, x) on an airplane, and finally xi) by a person who interviewed me for a job.  He called me back after the interview and thought I was very nice just not qualified enough for the job, but he wanted to get too know me better.  Lol I did not take him up on his offer. 

Now the funny thing is in all of the case above, the person hitting on me looked at least fifty years of age or older.  All of them asked me out for coffee, a drink, or dinner after only a few minutes of conversation with me.  Some of the conversations were as little as a minute or two; such as the guy on the subway platform or the guy at the ball park; some were a little longer like on the airplane or at a straight bar.   The times in restaurants have been strange, for instance one time I was sitting alone and a man actually came up and asked if he could join me and offers to buy me lunch.  I declined the buying of lunch but said he was more than welcome to join me. 

I did not act on all of the above invitations because some of them freaked me out.  But as you can see most of them happened in everyday situations.  I was not at some gay bar; or even in a gay part of town when these things occurred.  I was living life.  Yet somehow these men either sensed I was open to their advances, or they were brave enough to take a chance that I was.  I actually believe some men do have very accurate gaydar and I am living proof. 
I have written far too much again.  I will give more details another time of my university years.  Do not worry; there is more of me dressing up in woman’s underwear coming up shortly.  I just need to get my sexual history with men told, so that I can move on to other things.  The sex with men thing is an important part of the story, because it is what makes me, me.

PS:  I know this blog may seem very self-indulgent but it is certainly helping me work through some stuff I needed to sort out.  The other thing I wanted to say is that I have read lots of blogs, lots of personal ads and had correspondence with lots of men all claiming they want to have sex with a man or fantasizing about having sex with a man.  All I have to say is it is out there, all you have to do is open your eyes to the possibility.  I am in my mid-forties and the subway guy in the proceeding examples, was a well-dressed man in a business suit who hit on me on the past Wednesday at five o’clock in the afternoon and he gave me his phone number.  That is a true to life example.  I can’t be the only guy in this world getting hit on. I am certainly not God’s gift to men, but maybe because I am open to the possibilities, they appear.

Just some parting words for you to ponder.

1 comment:

  1. Your story sounds so much like my life all the way from when we were young boys. My life has proceeded differently, however, I often wished I'd stayed true to myself and not gotten married.